


Flood

by GoodJanet



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Almost Kiss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 20:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8593300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: Barack and Joe nearly get carried away one night in the Oval Office.





	

At the last second, Barack turns his face away, and his hands suddenly drop from Joe’s arms. Joe’s mouth meets nothing but air, and he steps back, embarrassed and worried he had severely misread some signals. Joe steps back, and Barack turns his face back to meet his gaze.

“Joe, I just—”

Biden puts up a hand before putting both into his pockets, and Barack quiets. He shuffles his feet awkwardly against the Oval Office carpet. Barack watches him, still leaning against one of the bookcases. Finally, Joe speaks.

“Look, if I did something wrong, I hope you’d tell me. You know I’d do anything for you. Anything you asked.

Barack bites the corner of his lip. He pushes himself off the bookcase and straightens his tie. Joe watches the smooth motions, enthralled. Barack moves in and puts his hands on Joe’s shoulders.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” the president says.

One hand moves from his shoulder to his cheek, and Joe smiles. Barack smiles back when Joe reaches up his hand to hold the one Barack was holding to his face. Barack allows the contact for a moment, but then his hands withdraw again, and Joe knows that that is that.

“It’s alright, Joe. You and I are good, you know.”

Joe wants to ask him why he moved away if that were true, but he holds his tongue for once. If Barack wasn’t interested, he wasn’t interested. Joe watches his president saunters from the bookcase back to his desk where a thick leather binder sat waiting for their eyes and ears. Joe follows at Barack’s heels and tries not to think that he would have to soon unlearn the habit. Joe feels the temporary sting of rejection fade as a thousand other moments with his president flood his consciousness in its place.


End file.
